The world will unfold all around us
by oracle-machine
Summary: Alison settles back into rosewood and discovers that maybe some things are meant to be, but only the second time around. Emily/Alison.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The world will unfold all around us

**Summary**: Alison settles back into rosewood and discovers that maybe some things are meant to be, but only the second time around. Emily/Alison.

**Pairings**: Emily/Allison [Emison], mentions of past Emily/Paige and the current canon pairings for the other Liars: Spencer/Toby, Aria/Angst/Ezra, Hanna/Travis.

**Spoilers**: S4.

**Warnings**: None.

**Author's note**:

I wanted to write Humor/Romance. What wanted to be written was, apparently, some sort of Ali/Liars feelings fest. Anyway. The Humor/Romance is (probably) coming, I promise. If you have the time, please leave a quick review, if only to let me know you are reading and want to read more. :)

Title is from the song _Sunday_, by Auditorium.

Last but definitely not least, a big thanks to **BrittzandTana **for her beta work! (_psst_ she also writes emison go check it out.)

* * *

Alison's first month back passes by in a blur. After it ends, all she can remember is a seemingly endless string of days spent declaring in Police stations, getting scrutinized in therapist's offices, trying to escape from the flash of the cameras and trying to deal with her mother looking at her as if she's a ticking bomb, a miracle and a stranger, all at once.

* * *

During the first week, the Police, finally and incredibly, do something right and manage to block some of A's accounts. After that, they catch and incarcerate a middle aged man with a beer gut and rapist 'stache and promptly convince themselves that he's definitely, beyond any reasonable doubt, A. All the evidence is clearly pointing his way, and he's confessed and his prints are everywhere, and maybe one should leave police work to actual police officers, young lady.

While they're busy patting each other's back, metaphorically and literally, Ali's phone vibrates for the first time in weeks.

She doesn't read it.

* * *

_Don't think I've forgotten about you BFF. I'll be seeing you soon. Love, -A_

* * *

She sees Jason exactly once that first month.

She's been back two whole days without hearing from him when he barges into her room, looking as if he's run all the way from...wherever he was, to Rosewood.

He looks better; that's the first thing that pops into Alison's head. Lucid. Like he gives a crap about life. It's a good look for him.

He looks at her with wide eyes. He blinks once. And then twice. "I came as soon as I heard."

Allison doesn't quite know what to say, or how to say it, so she does something she can't remember ever doing: she leaps from the bed and hugs him.

She presses her cheek against his shirt. "Hi."

He hugs her back, hard enough for it to hurt. "I can't -" he starts, "I can't stay."

Can't stay? Even when Alison's making a conscious effort to be less self-centered, she honestly can't imagine what could possibly be more important than your sister - or half-sister or whatever - coming back from the dead.

She wants to ask, but all she says is, "Oh. Okay."

His hug tightens and when she hears him choke back a sob, she tries to fight her own tears, she really does, but ends up bawling like a baby against his chest. She clutches the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

Apparently, she won't ever be cried out completely.

* * *

After the national news grows bored of that one girl in Rosewood, PA, who has come back from the dead, Alison is left with just a couple of Rosewood reporters to contend with. Things calm down considerably.

If it were any other city, Alison supposes it would be surprising how quickly everyone tires of her resurrection and goes back to their lives, but not in Rosewood. After all, as Alison herself knows very well, Rosewood has seen much more exciting news in the last years than her return.

* * *

And just like that, it's as if nothing had ever happened. Alison is officially back from the dead, new ID, with an awful picture, and all.

* * *

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first thing she does when those last reporters finally get tired of following her around is to go shopping.

She doesn't buy the amount of clothes that she would have a while back, since she kind of had to get used to having a much smaller wardrobe while she was pretending to be dead. Really, trying to pretend she was dead as a doornail, and having to worry about saving her friends from certain death at the hands of a tacky psychopath, didn't exactly leave her with a lot of time to keep up with the latest trends.

Still, as much as she has grown, and shifted her priorities or whatever, that _one_ red coat she owns is starting to get on her nerves.

Besides, it's been a while since she has bought something nice, just because. She figures that life owes her that much.

* * *

"Sweetheart," her mother says as she hands her credit card to the sales clerk, "you do know I didn't throw any of your old clothes away, right?"

Alison knows. Her old clothes, hanging in her old closet, in her old room, at her old house, where time seems to be frozen still, would've been difficult to miss.

Even so, something twists uncomfortably in her stomach every time the thought of wearing any of them crosses her mind.

She swallows the sudden lump inside her throat with some difficulty and smiles. "Oh." She waves her hand. "Those are totally out of style by now, mom."

Her mother purses her lips, almost imperceptibly, and Alison wonders if her mother is crazy enough to choose a shopping mall as the location of a whole 'Remember that one time I buried you alive?' conversation.

"Here you go," the clerk says, handing Allison her bag of clothes.

And that's that. Whatever her mother was about to say to her is gone.

"Well, a change could probably do your wardrobe some good."

Ali stares at her mother's back. It's not like she thought they were going to have a heart to heart first thing every morning, but it's been almost two months. Does her mom just not remember that night?

Ali sighs. Just as well.

It's not like she's dying to talk about it, anyway.

* * *

As soon as they're through the door, Alison makes a beeline for the stairs.

"Alison, wait," her mother says to Ali's fleeing figure.

Dammit. Alison stops, grips the handrail tightly, and turns her head to look at her mom. "Yeah?"

"You'll probably need some help."

Alison frowns. Some help? What's that supposed to mean? "Help?"

Her mother carefully sets her purse on the coffee table and straightens some imaginary wrinkles out of her cardigan. "To help sort your old clothes, and take them to charity."

Oh. Right. Alison releases a breath that she hadn't known she was holding. "Alright."

"Maybe you should call your friends," her mom continues, "Emily, Aria, Hanna and..." She purses her lips, "and Spencer."

In her mind, Alison's mom is probably making some sort of grand gesture or something. Ali is so not in the mood for this.

"I will," Alison answers, and, before her mother can open her mouth back again, practically sprints upstairs.

* * *

"Alison!" she hears her mother yell from downstairs, "Emily's here."

Ali yawns. Apparently, impromptu napping is another area where she has a lot of catching up to do. While she's still trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes, her mother's words finally register.

_Of course._

Of course Emily's the first to arrive, because all of Alison's luck seems to have run out since that night when a psycho didn't quite manage to off her with a rock to the back of her head.

Alison gets up from the bed and straightens her back. Okay, game face on, Ali.

It's not like she's not happy to see Emily. Of course she's happy to see one of her best friends. Elated, even.

But Alison has realized something since she's been back; it's one thing to keep tabs on Emily from afar, and it's quite another to see Emily in the flesh, without immediate doom hanging over their heads, and without anywhere to run to.

There's a lot she wants to say to Emily, but also a lot she _can't_ say to Emily. Because, really, how does one say, 'I'm sorry I said you were practice,' but also, 'Maybe I lied.' How exactly is Alison supposed to start a conversation with, 'I'm sorry that I threw your love back at your face,' and also, 'Maybe I want it back.'

Allison shakes her head. Who knew almost dying could make her so lame and depressing?

Besides, there's no point in imagining a conversation she never intends to have. She hadn't even known what she felt before everything happened, and she's even less sure now. What's the point?

* * *

As soon as Alison steps into view, her mother and Emily freeze mid sentence.

Okay. That's definitely weird.

Emily recovers first, giving Alison a half smile. "Hi, Ali."

Alison tries to smile at Emily and narrow her eyes at her mother at the same time. Judging by Emily's face, it doesn't exactly work.

She ends up giving up and just smiling at Emily. "Hi Em. C'mon up."

Emily gives Alison's mom a nod and follows Ali up the stairs.

"What were you two talking about?" Alison asks.

"You."

Ali had almost forgotten how honest Emily could be.

"Right." She flips her hair, aiming for casual. "What else is there?"

Emily smiles and fixes her with a look that suggests she doesn't buy Ali's bullshit, not even for a second.

* * *

Thankfully, Hannah arrives almost right after Emily does.

This time, Alison hears the doorbell and rushes downstairs. She arrives right in time to see Hanna expertly maneuver herself out from an awkward hug, and trot to the base of the stairs, before Allison's mom has time to do anything else but stand by the door looking vaguely insulted.

She catches Alison watching with a smile and rolls her eyes as if to say "Mothers, am I right?"

Alison smiles, rolls her eyes back at Hanna and feels like a normal teenager for the first time in forever, complaining about meddling mothers. She could kiss Hanna right now.

* * *

Once they are in Allison's room, Hanna unceremoniously flops herself onto Alison's bed, notices the piles of clothes Emily is already trying to organize and beams.

"This is about clothes?" she asks. "Thank _god_!"

Next to her, Emily tilts her head, affectionate smile already in place. "What were you worried it'd be about?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know," Hannah says, "a certain homicidal maniac out for our blood?"

Alison takes one of her, not yellow, new shirts from a bag and tries it out against her body.

"Oh, honey, haven't you heard?" Ali asks, suddenly feeling playful for no good reason. " A is just _so_ last season."

"No, you're right." Hanna leans against the headboard, "I hear B is gonna be all the rage this winter."

It's a terrible joke, and Ali doesn't mean to, but she laughs. "Oh, god." She throws her shirt at Hanna's face. "That's such a bad joke."

Hanna's response is another smile and a wiggle of her eyebrows, playful and confident and Alison wonders, not for the first time, what kind of friend Hannah would've been back in the day, if she'd let her. Before she can say anything, though, Spencer arrives, slowly opening the door to Alison's room as if she's defusing a bomb.

Okay. Alison knows she doesn't exactly have a right to be angry at Spencer just because she hasn't welcomed Alison back with open arms. Doubt is a reasonable reaction, at least according to her army of therapists, and everyone deals with traumatic events at their own pace. An analytical mind like Spencer's probably needs more time and - whatever. Alison _knows_ all this, alright?

Still, Spencer doesn't have to keep showing up just to remind Alison she doesn't trust her.

"Hi," Spencer says.

Alison is about to answer with a sigh of exasperation when she realizes that it probably won't help her case much. "Hi, Spencer," Ali says, trying for humble.

Considering Spencer's expression doesn't relax one bit, she can't quite pull off humble, yet.

Spencer eyes quickly scan the room. "Aria's not here?" she asks, "Has anyone heard from her?"

From her place on Alison's bed, Hanna reaches for her purse. "Yeah, she texted me." She loudly rummages through her purse. "Wait, lemme just-"

"That's ok, Han," Spencer interrupts, "we all know where she is."

Emily runs a hand through her hair and sighs. "Maybe we should say something to her."

Spencer looks at Emily as if that's the stupidest thing she's ever heard. And they say Alison was the mean one! Emily's just trying to help, for god's sake.

"What are we going to say?" Spencer asks. "'I'm sorry your creepy stalker slash ex boyfriend is in a coma, probably near death, but maybe you should leave his bedside once in a while, and maybe shower?'"

Hannah, still looking sadly at her phone, shrugs. "At least we caught a break from A, for a while."

Spencer glances at Alison. "Yes, what a happy coincidence."

But Spence, tell us how you really feel.

Alison crosses her arms and straightens her back. "What's that supposed to mean, Spencer?"

Spencer flinches. It shouldn't make Alison feel good, but it really, really does. Spencer recovers quickly, though, and glares at Alison, lifting her chin. "What do you think it

means, Alison?"

All things considered, it's a good thing that Emily steps in between them before Alison can claw Spencer's smug eyes out.

"Spence, that's enough," Emily says, and Alison can see every muscle in her back tense. "Maybe you should go."

Oh, fuck it, angry Emily is all kinds of hot. Fortunately, before Alison can do something irreparably dumb, like say that out loud, Spencer holds her hands up in surrender.

"Fine," she says, practically spitting out the words, "I'm sorry."

Emily turns around, looking at Allison expectantly.

Right. She's supposed to say something, too. That's how compromising works.

"Fine," Alison echoes, "whatever. C'mon in, _Spence_."

* * *

Things only get more and more tense from that point on, so when Spencer tapes the last box shut, looks at Alison as if she's a mystery to figure out and says, nonchalantly, "I can give you a hand with your exams if you want," all Alison really wants to do is ask what drugs is she on, this time.

Instead, because she'll need some serious help if she's going to recover the year and a half she missed being dead, she mentally crosses her fingers and says "I - sure. I mean, yes, please."

Spencer smiles and, geez, how did that become such a scary sight?

* * *

When they're somewhat finished, Spencer offers Hanna a ride home.

Emily, still living next door, lingers a bit more and so while she pretends to sort boxes, Alison pretends to organize her new wardrobe.

Yeah. Some friends they are. They can barely even look at each other.

After a while, Alison gives up the pretense and just sits there, looking at Emily feign working. When Emily notices and looks up from the boxes, there's a moment, before either of them realize what they're doing, that Alison lets herself smile at Emily. As she used to.

Emily smiles back and try as she might, Allison can't help that her heart beats faster, ready to burst with affection.

It lasts only a second and then Emily blinks and takes a step back, almost knocking over a pile of boxes.

"I -" she starts, "my mom, she texted - I should probably go."

She's out of the door before Alison can react.

Well.

Out of four friends she has left, only one can still look at Alison in the eye without glaring or bolting from the room. Alison's going to have to count that as a win.

So. Take that, A.

* * *

Spencer does, in fact, text Alison the following morning to set up a study date.

Ali spends the whole drive over taking deep, deep breaths and reminding herself that even if she's a new Alison, Spencer has every right to be doubtful, and that she doesn't exactly have a track record that inspires confidence.

This "new life, new Alison" is the worst. Just the worst. Ali used to not even know what nerves meant, and now she can barely have a single human interaction that doesn't involve her second guessing herself about every little thing she does.

Jesus. Why did she ever think she could pull this off?

Deep breaths. She can do this. She can be a good friend. She can wait until Spencer trusts her again. Deep breaths. Relax.

When she knocks on the Hasting's door, though, and it opens to reveal a haughty looking Melissa, all her relaxing goes straight to hell.

"Hello Melissa," she says.

Melissa rolls her eyes, a little melodramatically. "Save it," she says, opening the door all

the way. "Spencer is upstairs."

Honestly, what a bitch.

"Thanks, Baby Mama," Ali says and winces, regretting the words as soon as they're out of her mouth.

Melissa looks at her as if Allison is something that's gone bad in the back of her fridge. "Get the fuck out of my sight."

Well.

That could've gone a lot worse.

* * *

The study sessions, as Ali really should've suspected, are a catastrophe.

* * *

"Just because you spent two years playing dead doesn't give you an excuse for this level of idiocy!"

"Yeah, well maybe not everyone wants to be a speeding brainiac extraordinaire like you!"

* * *

"Are you being purposefully dense?"

"Oh, I don't know, are you being purposefully a giant bitch?"

* * *

"I give up. Drop out for all I care!"

"Fine."

"_Fine_!"

* * *

"So," Hannah begins, handling Allison her coffee, "how are those study dates going?"

"Great," Ali answers, maybe a little too quickly.

Hannah doesn't buy it. "Really?"

Alison gives her a look. "No, not really," she admits.

"We're taking..." She takes a sip of her coffee, trying to find the right words. "...a homicide preventive break."

Hannah laughs. "That good, huh?"

"Yes," Ali replies, not finding her misery nearly as funny as Hanna seems to, "that good."

Ali is about to complain about Spencer some more, when she catches a glimpse of Emily, cleary upset, talking on her phone.

Hanna follows her line of vision. "Speaking of things that could be going a lot better," she says, "how are things between you and Emily?"

Alison narrows her eyes. There's something in Hanna's tone that rubs her the wrong way.

"Fine," she says, "they're fine."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Hanna nods in Emily's direction, "you two have avoided each other practically since you got back. Maybe you could try telling me what's going on?"

Hanna fixes Ali with a look so full of concern and pity it makes Alison's see red.

"Maybe you should try minding your own business," she says, spitting out the words with enough contempt to make old Ali proud.

But Hanna doesn't budge, she doesn't even blink. "Yeah, well. Despite your best efforts, Ali, you are still my friend. It _is_ my business."

Alison sighs.

Hanna is right. Emily has been avoiding Ali, ever since that afternoon. To be honest, Ali has kind of been avoiding Emily, too.

"I don't know, ok?" She admits, "things are crap, that's how they are. And I don't even know why."

"Is it, " Hanna begins, pausing to steal a glance at Emily, "is it because of Emily and Paige?"

Alison blood runs cold. Oh god. She knows, Hanna knows. Somehow, Hanna has managed to look inside Alison's heart and she's found the dark, twisted part of her that still wants Emily to love only her. No one but her.

Does everyone know? Does _Emily_ know?

She nearly works herself into a panic, and then she sees Hanna's face, warm and open and understanding. Hanna is not like Ali. She doesn't hoard secrets like treasures to use them like swords.

Hanna is not trying to discover Ali's secret to hurt her, she truly, genuinely wants to be a friend to her.

She wants to be honest, she really does, but, "Emily and Paige? What's that supposed to mean?", comes out instead.

Hanna looks so disappointed, and Ali feels like a complete jerk.

"Nothing, Ali." she says, "It doesn't mean anything at all."

After that, neither of them says another word until Hanna get's a call from Travis and says she has to go. Alison looks around, Emily's shift has ended but she apparently left without even saying goodbye.

Alison doesn't feel like crying. Not even one bit.

* * *

Alison ends up actually swallowing her pride and calling Spencer to continue the torture sessions.

Considering she's avoiding Hanna, and Emily is still avoiding her, and Aria is avoiding the whole world, it's not like she has a lot of options, either.

* * *

They manage a whole hour before Spencer loses her patience.

She loudly closes her book and looks daggers at Alison. "I can't believe you can learn to pilot a plane, and yet fail to comprehend basic algebra, Alison!"

Alison has had it with Spencer.

She throws her book to the floor, where it lands with a loud thump. "What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?"

Spencer looks at her in disbelief. "What's _my_ problem?"

"Yeah," Ali says. "Your problem! I'm trying here, ok? And you just want to bite my fucking head off!"

"Maybe I'm just angry, Alison. Ever think about that?" Spencer says, before adding, "No, Wait. I'm furious."

Alison realizes this may not have to do with her issues with algebra, at all.

"Where were you, Allison?" Spencer asks, getting right into Ali's personal space, "What were you doing when A was ruining our lives?"

Ali takes a step back, and then another, until the back of her knees are againsts Spencer's bed. "A wanted me dead. Wants me dead. What was I supposed to do?"

"And what about what A wanted for us, Allison? What about what A's put us through?"

"I tried - I," Ali takes a deep breath, clenching her fists, "I helped you as much as I could."

Spencer laughs. "Did you, really?" she asks. "Because all the help I ever got from you was some cryptic words and a dance lesson when A had messed with my head so bad I could barely keep reality straight."

Fuck you, Spencer. At least Alison tried, instead of going over the deep end and leaving their friends alone against psychopath.

"Yeah, well, maybe with your track record, you should've taken a little more care with keeping up with reality, Spencer."

"Oh, fuck you."

"Fuck you too, darling."

They glare at each other until Alison just... gives up. She's too tired for this shit.

"Whatever," Ali says, "I shouldn't have come."

She walks to the door and she's about to leave when she barely catches Spencer say, "Maybe you shouldn't have come at all."

Alison's hand freezes at the doorknob. She feels herself deflate, like all the anger in her body suddenly decided to become sadness.

Yeah. Maybe.

Maybe she shouldn't have come at all. Maybe she should've just stayed dead.

She feels tears prickle her eyes and shuts them tight enough to see white spots. When she opens them again, she turns around and meets Spencer eyes. At least she looks about as tired as Ali feels.

"I was scared," she admits, surprising herself, "I am scared. I'm still terrified half the time." Ali fixes her eyes on her hands. "But that doesn't excuse anything... I'm sorry," she continues, "I'm sorry I didn't come back when you needed me."

"You came back when you needed us," Spencer says.

Ali wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know you," she pauses, swallowing around the lump in her throat, "I know I probably don't deserve it, but I could use your help."

Spencer smiles. It's not friendly exactly, or happy, but Ali feels like maybe it's... a start. "Story of my life."

Spencer stands up, picks up Alison's book from where it landed and sets it back on the table.

"This doesn't mean it's all forgiven," she says, eyes fixed on the first page.

Ali nods. "I know."

"Let's just - let's just try to get you through this and then... we'll see."

"Then we'll see."

* * *

She comes back from Spencer feeling bone-weary, as if she hasn't slept in a week. As she waddles towards her front door, she steals a glance towards Emily's house and is surprised to see that Emily's there, sitting on the front steps of her house, with Paige sitting closely next to her.

They seem deep in conversation and while it doesn't look like a particularly happy one, Alison can't miss the way Paige looks at Emily, even from a distance. It's a look so full of love Ali feels weird just witnessing it.

Whatever it is that she felt for Emily when they were fifteen, whatever she feels for Emily now, it doesn't matter. She hurt Emily too much by being cruel instead of brave, and she let too long pass and now, Emily has found someone else to love and it's just too late. She can't ruin this for Emily. She won't.

She averts her eyes and goes into her house, feeling like she's done the right thing, for once in her life.

She cries herself to sleep, all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everybody who read, reviewed, favorited and followed this little story. Reading your reviews honestly made my day. _

_Thanks to my beta **BrittzandTana**, who was kind enough to read this in a rush because I'm moving tomorrow! All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own. Feel free to point out any/all in your reviews._

* * *

To her everlasting credit, Ali manages a whole week of studying, moping around and avoiding pretty much everybody before she cracks.

She is reading over Spencer's sister damn paper on the Russian Revolution, when she finds herself suddenly wondering how CeCe is doing. She shudders and realizes she really should get out of her house before she does something truly insane, like trying to find out.

It's not as if she can't deal with long periods of inactivity. Getting used to some boredom is a must when pretending one is dead, and she wasn't so naive as to actually expect that her life would be the same as before everything happened, but she had been naive enough to believe it wouldn't suck quite this much.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the only one of her friends Ali kind of talks to and, god bless her, the one to put Alison out of her misery.

It starts with a series of group texts that indicate, in no uncertain terms, that Spencer believes the three of them -apparently Aria is spared the indignity- to be simpletons that are stubbornly refusing to make good use of A's hiatus. Hence, they probably should (_definitely must_) meet soon to come up with a plan, in order to be a few steps ahead of A, for once, instead of always trailing two behind.

Ali's not sure if she finds the suggestion that she is an idiot more insulting or amusing, but she's surprised to realize that the whole thing is mostly kind of endearing. Spencer has gotten, like, really bossy in her absence.

* * *

What follows is something that could only ever make sense inside of Spencer's head.

First, they all agree via text, to meet at Spencer's on Friday afternoon.

After that, each of them receives a secret message through different means, indicating they should disregard that agreement. Since A is possibly monitoring their communications, it was only ever meant as a decoy and they should wait for further instructions.

As a result of clear paranoid tendencies, Spencer effectively forbids them to text anything at all about the meeting, forcing them to communicate through a system of secret messages hidden inside books and coffee cups that Alison finds both ridiculously convoluted and decidedly brilliant.

Overall, it's practically a miracle that it takes them only a week to settle on the real meeting place.

* * *

Alison grabs her coffee and carefully checks the inside of the paper sleeve. There, instead of her name, she reads the group's meeting place: _Ambrose Pavilion, Friday, 4 PM._

She looks across the Hasting's kitchen at where Spencer is sitting, surrounded by books, and lifts her eyebrows.

"Really?" she mouths. Honestly, of all the places in the world...

Spencer response is to smile smugly at Alison and her eyes roll practically to the back of her head. Next time she fakes her death, her stupid diary is _definitely _coming with.

Even if the meeting place is probably Spencer's lame idea of a joke, Alison doesn't complain. As it turns out, she doesn't actually give a flying crap where they meet. She just wants them to do it. She hates all this waiting around for A to strike. She'd feel safer having a plan.

Alison takes her seat in front of Spencer, picks up her notebook and meets Spencer's expectant eyes.

"All set?" Spencer asks.

Ali nods. "All set."

Ali let's herself relax. Now that she has Spencer mostly on her side, she thinks they might even actually come up with a decent plan.

There's no way in hell she's telling Spencer that, obviously. Even if she truly appreciates Commander Hastings help, she doesn't need Nancy Drew getting anymore full of herself.

* * *

Once Friday arrives, Ali follows Spencer's carefully planned route and arrives at the Norristown Zoo at five to four. That's the lame kind of person she is now. The kind that arrives five minutes early to everything and actually looks forward to meeting in a reptilian pavilion to discuss stalker assholes on a Friday afternoon.

Who would've thought?

Thankfully, she's not the absolute lamest, since Spencer is there already; waiting primly by the Ambrose pavilion entrance, with Toby is standing next to her.

"Hi," Alison says.

"Hi, Ali," Spencer answers while Toby stands awkwardly, glaring at Ali.

Alison then directs her attention to him, and tries again.

"_Hi_ Toby," she says, hoping her voice doesn't betray her annoyance. She's trying here, and she's getting tired of everyone looking at her as if she's the antichrist.

Toby response is to deepen his scowl.

She presumes that he probably thinks it looks menacing, or something, but she barely stifles the urge to snort. She has never found Toby even remotely threatening, not even when he had the misguided notion that he could protect Spencer by allying himself with Mona. She finds him even less menacing now, when he's wearing a polo and holding Spencer's hand.

After a few tense seconds and a rather unsubtle elbow to his ribs, courtesy of Spencer, Toby relents.

"Alison," he says, giving her a curt nod.

Alison takes a deep breath and counts to ten. Sure, Toby is being kind of a dick but, as is the case with every single person in damned Rosewood, Toby actually has a valid reason to be angry with her.

She decides she might as well just get it over with and says, "I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you," as sincerely as she can manage.

Toby seems taken aback by her directness but, really, if Ali plans to make a big deal out of each and every apology, she has to make apologizing her full time job.

He narrows his eyes, seemingly mulling over her apology. After a few seconds, his brow relaxes and his shoulders lose the tension.

"Ok," he says with a small shrugs.

Now it's Ali's turn to look perplexed. "That's _it_?"

He shrugs, giving her a lopsided half-smile, "Guess so."

While Ali is trying to process the fact that someone like Toby Cavanaugh actually exists, his focus shifts back to Spencer.

"Will you be alright?" he asks.

Spencer nods. "Yeah, go. I think we'll be safe here."

Spencer leans up, and gives him a chaste kiss. When they break apart, he nods curtly at Alison and leaves.

"You're cute together," Ali says, partly because it's true, and partly because, for reasons she can't fathom, Spencer looks like she needs to hear it.

Spencer lips quirk up. "I know."

* * *

Hanna, Emily and Aria start arriving a few minutes later, each in a different car and following a different path. Alison finds the whole thing a bit overkill, but Spencer looks so delighted with her organizational and leading skills Ali can't bring herself to burst her bubble.

Surprisingly, Aria is the next one to arrive. It's the first time Ali's seen her in weeks, and she looks wretched. Big baggy hoodie, bags under her eyes, and an expression so defeated it makes Alison want to dismember A, limb by limb.

Judging by the way that Spencer's jaw tightens, she's not the only one that feels this way.

Aria gives them a tired smile. "Hi guys."

Alison feels like she should probably say something, but she's horrible at comforting people. Truth be told, now that she thinks about it, she can't remember comforting anyone. Ever.

Wow. She really _was _kind of a sucky friend.

While Ali stays glued to the ground, trying to figure what the hell she's supposed to do, Spencer envelops Aria into a tight hug and Aria's whole body sags into Spencer.

When Spencer releases her, somewhat reluctantly, Aria turns to Alison. "Hey."

"Hi," Ali says, "How's he holding up?"

Aria shrugs, as if to say, how should I know? "Better, I think? It's not like anybody tells me anything."

"You know you didn't have to come," Spencer says.

"No, I know," Aria replies, playing with the strings of her hoodie, "I guess I wanted - I needed to think about something else, you know?"

Ali bites the inside of her lip, but before she can say anything else, Hanna arrives.

She walks into the pavilion as if someone is holding a gun to the back of her head.

"Spencer, I'm so pissed at you and your stupid plans. I _hate _this place."

Spencer shakes her head. "Hi, sunshine."

Hanna sticks her tongue out at Spencer and Aria chuckles. Hanna turns her attention to her, placing her hand on Aria's tiny arm. "You ok?"

Aria nods. "I'm ok."

Ali stands there, awkwardly, feeling on the outside looking in. She really has some work to do on this whole friendship thing.

* * *

Emily is the last to arrive, looking beautiful in an effortless way that makes Ali's stomach tie up in knots. Ali watches her approach the entrance and as soon as their eyes meet, Emily averts her gaze.

Alison ignores the way her heart clenches painfully inside her chest, waits for Emily to greet everyone, and impatiently says, "So, are we ready to begin with this, or what?"

"Yes, lets," Hanna answers for everybody, "I'm already _itching _to get out of here."

* * *

"So," Spencer begins, "the idea is to get Ali up to speed with what we know, and maybe she can shed some light on what we still don't know. After that, maybe we can formulate some sort of plan before A bounces back."

Alison nods, takes out her trusty notebook from her bag and opens it somewhere at the beginning. "Should I go first?"

She sees everyone staring at her wide-eyed and frowns. "What?"

Hanna takes her notebook from her hands, slowly, as if it's a rat she's holding up from the tail. "What's _this_?"

So maybe her trusty notebook looks a bit like the work of someone completely deranged. It's gotten kind of...big, over time, and she might have gone a little overboard with the adding of new pages and sticky notes and every single scrap of information she had ever found but, really, it's not nearly as bad as Hanna is making it seem.

"It's a journal," Ali explains, "I started it about a month after I disappeared."

She surveys her audience, and is pleased to find all four of her friends are looking at her intently.

"I realized," she continues, "I might not get to go home for a while, if ever, as long as A was after me."

Ali extends her hand and Hanna gives Ali her journal back. She traces the spiral binding with her finger. "I figured that maybe, if I thought about it long and hard enough, remembered everything, I might figure out who the bastard was.

"So I remembered everything. Everyone that had or might've had something against me, every interaction I had with them, anything I could think of, and wrote everything down."

She absentmindedly flips through the pages as she continues, "I tried to find clues or patterns or something, but I never could make any sense of it. Maybe one of you'll have better luck."

Ali hands the journal to Spencer, whose hand is practically trembling in anticipation. "Most of what's in there you probably already know, but some things I tried to keep hidden, even from my diary."

Spencer suddenly stops before opening the notebook. "Are you sure you want us to read this?"

Ali shrugs. "All those secrets I kept didn't keep me safe at the end. Maybe - I don't know. Maybe the stupid secrets will help this way."

* * *

While Spencer reads her journal like a woman possessed and the others try, unsuccessfully, to force her to share, Ali alternates between watching Emily and the snakes with equal amounts of fascination.

She traces the contours of Emily's face with her eyes, trying to remember a time when Emily's beauty astounded her like it does now. She can't remember one quite like this.

She wonders if it's her, the one that's changed, or Emily. Whatever rational part of her brain still remains suggests it's probably a bit of both. Still, lately Ali feels as if she's another person completely, one whose feelings she doesn't understand and can't seem to control.

"And you had the gall," Spencer says, breaking Ali's reverie, "the absolute _gall _to call my plan anal!"

Alison tears her eyes away from Emily and blinks. "What?"

Spencer point to Ali's notebook accusingly. "You made a chart of everyone you interacted with that summer, and half of this journal is color coded. Color coded! This is at least as bad as my plan!"

Ali rolls her eyes, taking her journal from Spencer's hands. "This doesn't even _rank _in comparison. It took me two hours to get to this meeting, thanks to your stupid scenic route!"

Spencer lifts her eyebrows. "My very safe stupid scenic route, you mean."

"For all I know," Ali counters, "A has still managed to crack your lame coffee cup code and is listening in right now. Hi A!"

Spencer looks so affronted by the mere suggestion her plan might not be infallible it's almost funny.

"Ok," Emily interrupts. "We're not doing this again. Behave."

Alison mock glares at Spencer and she mock glares back.

"Fine," Ali says, "I thought the notes in the coffee cups were brilliant."

Spencer lifts her chin. "Thank you," she says, as if she can't believe it took so long for Ali to admit her absolute genius, "Can I please have your crazy person journal back, now?"

"Oh, shut up," Ali says, giving her the notebook, "You love it."

* * *

Emily leaves shortly after that, after receiving yet another phone call, Ali guesses from Paige. At least this time, she deigns to say goodbye before disappearing. After a while, Spencer and Aria follow, but not before Spencer has corralled Alison into a one on one study and strategy session for Sunday.

She should've never showed her that notebook.

"Call me later!" Hanna shouts to Emily's back.

Emily nods, and she's gone. Hanna then turns her attention to Alison.

"So, Spencer looked like she was about to make out with your notebook." Hannah says, walking towards Ali.

Alison looks at Hanna, wrinkles of surprise appearing on her forehead. Are they giving out forgiving pills at Rosewood hospital? Can Ali get some? Do these people not know how to hold a proper grudge?

Whatever. If Hanna is not pissed at her, Ali is not exactly in a hurry to remind her she should be.

"I knew she'd love it," Ali says, "I actually spent yesterday afternoon color coding the thing especially for her."

Hanna looks doubtful. "Really?"

Alison edges nearer to Hanna, "Don't tell her," she stage whispers, "but the color coding is completely nonsensical and it's just there to mess with her head."

Hanna laughs. "Really?"

Ali smiles, feeling somewhat smug.

"I thought you were trying to avoid dying at Spencer's hand, Ali."

"Oh, come on," Ali rolls her eyes. "It's a teeny tiny joke!"

Hanna tilts her head, looking at her incredulously. "Have you met Spencer?"

Ali shrugs. "She'll love the challenge, anyway."

They stay silent, for a while, just standing side by side.

"So, wanna ditch this place and grab a coffee?" Hanna asks.

Thanks to Spencer, Ali has had enough coffee to last her a lifetime but says "Yeah, that'd be great," all the same.

* * *

Ali watches Hanna as she carries two cups of steaming hot coffee to their table.

"You'd think," Hanna begins, settling Ali's cup in front of her, "that practically living here would grant us a discount. But no, even Emily charges full price, every time."

Ali grabs her cup, holding it close to her nose, inhaling the smell of coffee. "Those bastards."

Hanna makes a sound of agreement and takes her seat. She seems content to stay silent for a while, drinking her coffee and absentmindedly checking her phone. Meanwhile, Alison takes small sips from her cup and tries to find the best way to apologize for being a giant bitch without sounding like an insincere, broken record.

"So, about the other day, -" she begins, only to be interrupted by Hanna.

"Don't worry about it," Hanna says, "It's no big deal."

"But it is," Ali insists, "I was a bitch to you."

Hanna waves her hand dismissively. "C'mon Ali, we all have bad days."

"Yeah, but," Ali tries again. Why won't Hanna let her apologize? "Some of us even have fifteen years of bad days. I'm trying to... to not be that person anymore, but I keep falling back, and I was a bitch to you, again, and you didn't deserve it and maybe I can never be anything other than a bitch, and - "

Hanna puts a hand on her arm, stopping her diatribe.

"Ali, breathe," she says, "I know, ok? I know."

Alison takes another deep breath and looks at Hanna pleadingly. She's so tired of feeling sorry all the time.

"I know you are trying," Hanna continues, "I've lost - we've all lost - enough people already. We don't need to alienate each other for stupid shit. You'll get there."

Ali tilts her head and looks at Hanna, amazed. "Just when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been," Hanna says, "you were all just too unwise to notice."

* * *

"So," Hanna says after a while, drawing out the syllable dramatically, "now that's cleared up…Maybe it's time we talk about the Emily thing."

Ali would rather talk about any other topic in the world, including the Russian Revolution. "Ok."

She waits for Hanna to start the conversation, but Hanna seems perfectly happy to just lean back in the couch and look at her encouragingly.

Ali sighs. "I don't know what you expect me to tell you that you don't already know."

Hanna takes a sip from her coffee. "I know Emily was in love with you."

Ali nods. Emily had never said as much, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that one.

"And I know," Hanna continues, turning serious, "that you broke her heart into a million pieces."

"I know," Ali says, "I didn't mean to, but I couldn't exactly let her know I was alive, either."

Hanna looks at her quizzically. "I meant before that."

Oh, right. Ali fixes her eyes on her hands.

"You toyed with her heart long before you went missing," Hanna suddenly looks about as comfortable with the conversation as Ali feels. "Did you mean that?"

Did she mean that? She always kind of knew, or suspected at any rate, what Emily felt for her. She remembers loving the fact that Emily felt that way about her, loving how Emily looked at her, as if she was the single most amazing thing ever.

She knew, even when she tried to pretend she didn't, what every kiss they shared meant to Emily. She knew Emily loved her and she wanted Emily to love her. What she didn't want was to love Emily back. She wanted to find the real thing, whatever the hell that was.

"I really thought," she starts, "I actually did believe we were just wasting time until the real thing came along."

"Did you ever find that real thing?"

"No," Ali frowns, remembering dozens of college parties. "Maybe, I don't know. I found guys, some I liked. Some I might have even cared about…"

Hanna lifts her eyebrows expectantly. "But?"

"But it never felt like more, I guess," Ali says, "I kept waiting for it to feel like more, but it was just different. Just college boys instead of Emily."

Hanna leans back in the couch, seemingly considering Ali's words.

"And now?" she asks, after a few moments, "What's going on now?"

Ali snorts. "Wouldn't _I _like to know."

Hanna fixes her with a look. "Ali."

"I have no idea, Han, really. I'm confused and scared and it feels like I'm stuck at two years ago and that everybody else has been moving forward without me. Even her. Especially her."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"And what am I supposed to say?" Ali asks, "Hey Em, remember when I broke your heart? Say, I might wanna do it again."

Hanna huffs in impatience. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"But that's what'll happen." Ali insists, "even if I knew what I felt, I wouldn't - Emily is better off without me."

Hanna doesn't respond, and Ali thinks that finally, this conversation is over, and fixes her eyes back on her probably freezing coffee.

"That's bullshit."

Ali looks up from her cup, startled.

"Look Ali," Hanna says, "I'm not saying you should declare your undying love for her or whatever, but she's your friend. Moreover, she's missed you and she's going through a rough patch right now. You could try being her _friend_."

Ali bites her lip. "It's actually kind of annoying how right you are all of the time lately."

"See, I told you? You'll get there."

Ali sticks her tongue out at Hanna. "Fine," she says, "let's stop with the depressing drama. Tell me about that hot piece of hunkiness that's always following you around."

"Travis?" Hanna beams. "We'll need another coffee for that conversation."

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Alison can listen, on occasion, to somebody other than herself. She carefully considers Hanna's advice and realizes that she's right. She needs to get over herself and be a friend to Emily.

This is why Sunday morning finds Alison standing on Emily's front door for five straight minutes, trying to work up the courage to ring the doorbell.

Sadly, before Ali can turn around and bolt like every fiber of her being is asking her to, the door opens.

Pam eyes widen when she notices Alison, and then her face breaks out in a warm smile. "Alison! Did you ring the doorbell?"

Ali smiles back, feeling her nerves subside. "Mrs. Fields, Hi. I was just about to. Is Emily home?"

"She's upstairs," Emily's mom answers, moving to the side of the door, "Come on in."

Ali steps into Emily's house. "Should I?" she asks, nodding towards the stairs.

"Sure." Pam's hand is already back at the doorknob, "I was just heading out, and don't be a stranger!"

Ali nods, and as soon as Pam is out the door, she hears Emily's footsteps coming down.

Emily sees her Ali waiting at the base of the stairs and stops. "Ali? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just-" Ali stammers, "I was wondering if you, maybe, like if you have the time, if you're not busy or anything, you know, maybe we could do something. Or whatever."

_Oh god_. Who is this person that's taken control of her vocal chords and how can she shut her up?

"Or whatever," Emily repeats, slowly. "Actually, I was going for a run."

Alison lets herself take a good look at Emily and oh Jesus, Emily's shorts are fucking short.

"Oh, ok," Ali says, "Maybe some other -"

"You can come with, " Emily interrupts her, "I mean, if you want to."

"Sure!" Ali says, perhaps with a little more zeal than strictly necessary. "Let's run."

Ali has only ever run away from certain death, but whatever. How bad can it be?

* * *

It turns out that running is not as terrible as Ali thought it would be. It's much worse.

She's going to die.

God, she's definitely going to die in this stupid park, she's going to have a heart attack while trying to catch up to Emily, who apparently doesn't know the difference between a nice, quiet jog and running like the devil is chasing her.

What is worse it that Emily looks as if she's run maybe all of five seconds, while they been at it for -Ali checks her watch - five minutes?

_Five _minutes? They'll have to bond over some other shared activity, Ali decides. She can't do this shit for another hour.

Ali stops, bends over with her hands on her knees and grasps for air. "Em."

Emily, already far away, doesn't hear.

"Emily!"

Emily stops, looks at what Ali is sure constitutes a rather pitiful sight and jogs back towards Alison.

"Sorry," she says, "maybe we should take it easier?"

_You think?_

"Yea-" Ali takes a couple of shallow breaths. "Please."

* * *

After that, they take up and easy jog, with Emily literally running circles around Alison every couple of minutes.

Slowly, but surely, they start talking. They purposely stay away from any touchy subjects, but Emily tells her about wanting to swim again, and how she misses her dad and how sometimes she dreams of getting on a bus to anywhere and never look back. In turn, Ali tells her about learning to fly and missing them, and how she never, not once in almost two years, managed to make a decent coffee on that fucking machine from hell.

It's awkward, and it's strained, but it still feels like coming home.

After about half an hour, Emily suddenly slows down and looks at Ali with wide brown eyes.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," she says, "about, you know, avoiding you lately."

That stops Alison dead in her tracks. She doesn't know if she wants to laugh, cry, or shake some sense into Emily's head. She's sorry? Emily is sorry? Jesus Christ if anyone should be sorry -

"No," Ali says, "_I'm_ sorry."

Emily stops jogging, too, when she catches Alison's meaning. "Ali, you've already apologized."

"No, I haven't," Ali says, "not really. I want you to know, I need to know you know how sorry I am. About everything."

Emily look at her, really looks at her, and it feels as if she's staring right into Ali's heart. It's awful.

"I know." Emily says, "I forgive you."

Ali instantly feels about twenty pounds lighter. "Good. Because I want-"

She wants everything. She always wants everything. She wants Emily to forgive her, she wants Emily to be happy, and she wants Emily to love her. She wants -

"I want us to be friends, " Ali lies, "no games, no lies."

"I'd like that." Emily says, "I could use a friend."

Then, suddenly and Emily really ought to start warning people before she does this, Emily smiles.

A real smile, the kind goes from her lips all the way up to her eyes, lights up her whole face. The kind of smile that could make someone fall in love.

Ali is so catastrophically screwed it's not even funny.

* * *

_A/N, the second._

_I'm sorry, I just have a lot of feelings. A couple of things:_

_1. I'm sorry about the inordinate amount of words it took me to get Emily and Alison interacting. Geez. I promise it'll get better from now on._

_2. In response to a guest who wondered: the story will probably be four/five chapters long. _

_3. You can probably expect an update in a week/week and a half. I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do for now. _

_4. These are a few of my favorite things: Shay Mitchell's face, puppies and prompts. So, take a look at the fandoms/pairings on my profile and feel free to prompt me in a PM or send me an ask on tumblr._


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